Eleven years old… petite little body of the dancer that she is… in a panic because she did not like the leggings that I picked out for her to wear. After some arguing, she put them on, tears in her eyes, and dutifully put on her glasses, ready to go to school. Stoic, but sad.
Reality and experience smacked me in the face, as I gave her a plain black pair, told her to quickly change her clothes and not to be sad. No tears, anything but sad…
My baby girl was having a “fat day”. As ridiculous as it seemed to me, she was experiencing what we all do, when we look in the mirror and see something that just is not there.
I told her no tears, no sadness… no need to explain, just change your clothes and be happy. As she smiled from beneath her cascades of hair, I could see myself in her. Her lack of self confidence, and so easily brought to tears. I told her no need to explain… we all have those days.
The round trip drive to school gave me an unfortunately long time to think. Why should she have those feelings? What is it that we do to ourselves, and to each other, that allows us to see negativity, rather than the self love and respect that we should? Did one of her friends say something about the pattern on the leggings? Was she concerned that she looked fat? Or did it just not “feel” right on that particular day… something experientially attributable to the hormones just starting to rage in her little body.
Today was not a time for talking; it was just a time for a silent understanding. That is my story, and I am sticking with it, because honestly, I am simply not yet sure what to say. It seems that my baby and I are growing up together.